


This is how we heal

by BecauseImClassy



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Karen Needs a Hug, Secrets are Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen's secrets are keeping her up at night. Matt wants to help, without revealing his own secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the poem Mouthful of Forevers by Clementine von Radics
> 
>  
> 
> Setting is just after season one, when Matt and Karen don't know each other's secrets yet. No Foggy in this first chapter, but he'll be around later.

All Karen wants is a decent night’s sleep. She had hoped that once Wilson Fisk was behind bars, her nightmares would stop. But they haven’t. Some nights Fisk comes to kill her, others she sees Wesley, a look of blank surprise on his face as bullet holes pierce his chest. On the worst nights, Matt and Foggy are killed in a variety of ways, and she’s helpless to do anything but watch. Those are the nights she wakes up screaming, and can only stop the shaking by drinking herself numb.

Exhaustion is becoming her normal state, slowing her body, fogging her mind. Anxiety gnaws at her, and the least stress has her on the verge of tears. Her usual response to stress is anger, but lately she can’t summon up the energy for anger.

She’s still managing to go through the motions of her life, so far. She drags herself into the office, does her work, and tries to banter with Foggy as if nothing’s wrong. He’s easier to fool than Matt is—for a blind guy, Matt is awfully perceptive.

Matt can tell that something is very wrong with Karen. He can sense her condition in the minute tremors in her voice, the dragging of her footsteps, the smell of stress hormones in her perspiration. The smell of fear. Sometimes the smell of alcohol leaking from her pores, persisting through soap and toothpaste and mouthwash.

He’s worried. Some days Foggy notices that Karen’s not herself, but he seems willing to accept her thin excuses for her tiredness. Matt knows better, but he can’t admit it without telling her about his enhanced senses, so he says nothing. But he’s starting to feel like shit about it. She’s in bad shape. She needs help, and it’s clear she’s not going to ask for it. He cares for her, more than he’s ever told her, and he does nothing while she slowly disintegrates, because he’s afraid to tell her his secret. He’s disgusted with himself, and finally he can’t keep silent any longer.

Foggy has gone home for the day, but Karen and Matt ate takeout at their desks and have kept working until late. But now they’re packing up. Karen dreads the thought of going home, but she also dreads being alone with Matt when he isn’t focused on work. Once, she would have welcomed it. But continuous stress has ground out of her any possibility of desire, and now she only wants to escape his attention.

And sure enough, when he emerges from his office, he’s wearing the expression of concern she’s been trying so hard to avoid. His dark glasses are tucked in his pocket, she can read his expression all too easily. 

“Karen—“ He steps toward her and puts his hand on her arm. She flinches away, trying to conceal the fact that she’s trembling with exhaustion, and takes refuge in babble, practically running for the door.

“Okay well, that’s it for tonight, then, I’ll see you tomorrow, bye—“

“Karen!” The anguish in his voice pulls her up short. Then, quieter, “Karen, please. Please, don’t run away from me. I only want to help you.”

“I don’t need any help, thanks. I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.” It’s said without anger, just a bleak, unhappy statement of fact. “You haven’t been fine for weeks now. Please don’t run away. I won’t—I won’t ask you any questions. But isn’t there anything I can do?”

She drifts back a step or two toward him. She’s so very tired, and tired of pretending. It’s almost a relief, that he’s seen through her. But no, there isn’t anything he can do. Her breath catches on something almost a sob, and she covers her mouth with her hands.

He steps closer. “You’re not alone, Karen. You told me that once, and you didn’t ask me any questions. Will you let me do the same for you?” He doesn’t touch her again, but he extends an arm toward her. She takes another step.

“No questions?” it comes out in a choked whisper.

“No questions. I won’t ask, I don’t have any right to ask. You know there’s things I’ve kept from you.” Yes, she does know that. And somehow, that makes it easier to trust him now. They’re both keeping secrets; it makes them equals in a way, it puts them on the same level. She reaches out to him, eyes filling with tears, and buries her face against his shoulder as his arms go around her.

For a while she sobs quietly, while Matt tries to think of something comforting to say. But not knowing what’s wrong makes it difficult. He settles for repeating, “You’re not alone. I’m here, Karen. Whatever it is, you don’t ever have to suffer like this all by yourself.” He strokes her hair, rubs her shoulders and back, and feels how tense her muscles are. How long has it been since she truly relaxed? What is she afraid of?

“If only I could sleep,” she whispers raggedly, and maybe there is something he can do for her after all. He waits until her sobs have quieted, her breathing calmed back to normal.

“Karen, where do you feel safe?”

“Here.” He thinks about that. 

“Here, at the office? Or…or here, with me?”

“Both,” she answers, without hesitation, even though a moment before she had thought she didn’t feel safe anywhere.

“Would you like to come and stay at my place tonight? I might be able to help you sleep.”

“How?”

“By helping you relax. Your muscles are like rock. My sense of touch is, um, pretty sensitive, I can feel where you’re all knotted up and I can work those knots loose for you.” Oh god, he’s basically saying _Come home with me and let me give you a back rub,_ but she seems to realize he’s not suggesting anything inappropriate. At least, she continues to lean on him, breathing calmly.

He plunges on. “That should help you fall asleep. And if you wake up during the night, you won’t be alone. If you think that might help.” He’s treading carefully here, he may suspect she’s having nightmares, but she hasn’t actually said so, and he can’t ask.

“That would help, I think.” She hesitates. She doesn’t want him to see her shaking and sick from the dreams she knows will come. But would that really be so much worse than the collapse he’s just witnessed here? And, she realizes, he does comfort her. His voice, his arms, his company, no questions asked. Rest. Oh god, _rest._

She takes a deep breath. “Yes. I would love that. Thank you, Matt.” She steps back from his embrace. He smiles a little and nods.

“All right then. Let’s go.”

—————————————————————————

Back at Matt’s apartment, he gets out a T-shirt and sweatpants for her to sleep in, and a toothbrush.

“Do you want a shower? It might help relax you.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He finds her a clean towel while she rummages in her purse for a hair clip, an elastic, anything she can use to put her hair up to keep it dry. In the shower, the hot water warming her weary muscles, she thinks distantly that there’s something weirdly intimate about being naked in someone else’s bathroom, but finds she doesn’t care. She doesn’t have the energy for trivialities, and if Matt’s acting like this whole situation is perfectly normal, then that’s what it is.

While Karen showers, Matt brings a blanket and pillow out to the sofa in the living room. They haven’t discussed where he’s going to sleep, but he doesn’t want to make things weird, and sharing a bed might do exactly that. And anyway, if she’s used to sleeping alone then she’ll probably sleep better with the bed to herself. If she does have nightmares, he’ll still be able to hear her from the sofa if she needs him.

He turns down the bed, and when she emerges from the bathroom he has her lie down on the sheets on her stomach. He runs his hands over her back from her hips up to her neck, feeling where the tension lies.

“Let me know if I’m pressing too hard.”

She makes a _mmmmmff_ sound that he takes for agreement, and he sets to work. He takes his time, trying to be gentle but thorough. He does need to lean into some spots pretty hard, but she doesn’t complain. She does moan, though, as each knot releases, which is…distracting. He’s very aware of the fact that he is touching her body, only a soft old T-shirt between between his skin and hers, feeling her respond to his touch, relaxing under his fingers. He sternly redirects his wayward thoughts. Tonight is about helping her get the rest she needs so desperately, nothing else.

When he’s finished with her back, he runs his hands up into the softness of her hair, gently moving his fingers over her scalp, feeling for tension. She sighs out an audible breath, sounding sleepy. Good. He gives her shoulders a squeeze, then draws the blankets up to cover her.

Karen feels heavy, half-asleep already. There are aches in her back where Matt’s fingers have dug in, but that doesn’t matter. She turns on her back as he pulls the covers up over her, and takes his hands.

“Thank you. I already feel better than I have in weeks, I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Go to sleep now. I need to get ready for bed, and do a few other things.” She notices then that he’s still in his work clothes. “If you need anything, just call. I’ll hear you.”

“Okay.” He leaves the bedroom, and she listens to him quietly moving around the apartment, doing whatever household tasks he needs to, whatever parts of his normal routine she’s interrupted. She says his name once, not loudly, to see if he really can hear her all the way in the kitchen, and he answers immediately and comes back into the bedroom.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I was just checking.” Apparently he finds that an acceptable answer, he smiles and puts a hand briefly on her shoulder and then goes back out.

He realizes belatedly that an ordinary blind person probably wouldn’t have been able to touch her shoulder that accurately, with no fumbling, but she doesn’t seem to have noticed. He gets ready for bed, listening to Karen’s breathing and heartbeat as they drift into the slow rhythms of sleep, then curls up on the sofa.

Some time later, she jerks awake with a strangled gasp. For a moment she doesn’t know where she is and starts to panic, then she remembers. She’s about to call out for Matt, but there’s no need, he’s already in the room.

“Karen? Karen, it’s me.” He speaks gently and crosses the room slowly, so as not to startle her. She flings her arms out toward him and gasps out his name, and he slips into the bed and takes her in his arms. Her breathing is ragged, her heart going like a jackhammer. She curls up into a ball, and he wraps himself around her as much as he can. He breathes slow and deep, hoping that his calmness will help to calm her. She doesn’t cry, but her uneven breaths are almost sobs, and she grips him hard enough to bruise.

“You’re safe, Karen. You’re safe. I’m here, no one’s going to hurt you.” He pitches his voice low and soothing, and rubs her back. And gradually she relaxes, breathing deeper, her heartbeat slowly growing calm and steady.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No! You said—“

“I said no questions. I’m sorry, I only meant…some people get over nightmares by telling someone what they dreamed.”

“It wouldn’t help.”

“I’m sorry.” They lie together in silence for a few more minutes.

“Were you sleeping on the couch?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t go back there, please. Stay here with me.”

“All right.” She sighs and uncurls a little, shifting against him to find a more comfortable position. He stretches out but keeps his arms around her, and they both drift off back to sleep.

When Karen wakes again, daylight is coming in pale through the windows. It’s early, but it’s morning. She stretches and yawns, and realizes to her amazement that she’s woken up naturally, easily, not jolted out of sleep by dreams or the alarm. How long has it been since she woke feeling relaxed?

She turns her head, and sees Matt lying beside her, eyes closed. His hair is a mess, his jaw covered in stubble. She blushes, remembering that she fell asleep in his arms, but at the same time she feels a rush of affection and gratitude. She hasn’t slept so well since she shot Wesley, and it’s all Matt’s doing.

Matt listens as Karen slips out of bed and gets dressed. He keeps still, pretending to sleep, until she comes and puts a hand on his arm.

“Matt?”

“Mmmmmf.” He turns toward her and opens his eyes a crack.

“It’s morning, but it’s still early. I’m going to go home, change my clothes and get ready for work.”

“Okay. See you later.” His voice is soft and throaty, blurred with sleepiness. He smiles and squeezes her hand.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Welcome.” His eyes are closed again.

His sheets smell like Karen. After she leaves, he curls into her side of the bed and dozes until his alarm goes off.

—————————————————————————

It’s a good day at work, for all of them. Karen feels much better, her state of relaxation persisting even though she knows she’ll probably sleep badly again tonight. Matt and Foggy are happy that she’s happy, and the three of them talk and laugh like they haven’t done in too long.

At the end of the day, Foggy’s the first to leave again, meeting Marci for drinks. This time Karen is glad to be left alone with Matt. His office door is open, and she goes and leans in the doorway.

“Hey, Matt.”

“Hey, Karen. You leaving?”

“Um, I wanted to thank you. Again. For last night. It’s made such a difference, even if it was just one night. I’ve been wound up tight for so long, to finally relax is…it’s such a relief. Even if I have nightmares again tonight—“ _and I probably will_ —“at least I’m not going into it already sick and worn out. And, and, you did this. For me. I couldn’t have done it myself. So. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad it helped. And you know, it doesn’t have to be just one night.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—“ 

“I’m not saying you should come over every night, that might be…” Awkward? Wonderful? “But if it gets that bad again, now we know it works. If you really need it, you can have that again. Just let me know.”

Karen is touched, but also feels like she couldn’t possibly deserve so much kindness. Almost as if he knows what she’s thinking, he continues.

“And even if you never do, maybe it will help just knowing that the choice is there. Trouble can be easier to bear if you know you have options. Just bear it in mind, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.”

He hesitates. “I thought of something else that could help, if you want. I know how comforting it can be sometimes, just to hear a friendly voice. I can’t see faces, so voices mean a lot to me.” He smiles a little. “If you’re home alone at night, and…and you think you’d like to just talk for a while, you can call me. I don’t mind.”

“After a nightmare, you mean? In the middle of the night?”

“Yes.”

“But Matt, then I’d be keeping you awake.”

“But I sleep okay most nights, and right now I’d say you don’t. I can afford to lose a little sleep, and I’m willing to if it helps you sleep better. I’m just putting it out there, so you know you have the option, even if you never use it.” _Please,_ he wants to say, _Call me instead of drinking._ But he can’t let on that he knows she sometimes drinks herself back to sleep. All he can do is make the offer, and hope she takes him up on it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has more helpful ideas. Karen has more rough nights. Foggy notices something is going on.

“Matt. You brought in _what?”_

“A folding cot, Foggy. And a sleeping bag and pillow.” Karen says nothing, but she’s following their conversation intently. “I just thought, as late as we end up working some nights, it would be good to be able to take a nap if necessary. For any of us. I’ll keep it in my office, but you two are welcome to use it.”

Foggy can’t think of any real objections to the idea. And of course, he knows why Matt doesn’t always get enough sleep at night. If he wants to nap at the office, Foggy guesses he doesn’t have a problem with it, as long as he doesn’t do it when they’re expecting clients.

The next time Karen can’t face the thought of spending the night in her apartment, she packs her pajamas and quietly slips into the empty office. The cot is less comfortable than her bed, but it’s worth it to be away from her apartment with all of its bad associations. Sleeping in Matt’s office is comforting, even without Matt there. The space seems to be permeated by his presence, even as her own place is permeated by violence and fear. 

She dreams, but waking in his office turns her thoughts toward him, away from a vengeful Wilson Fisk, and she’s able to calm herself and sleep again. The alarm on her phone wakes her early enough to clear out and go home, where she showers and prepares for work as usual.

When Matt steps into his office that morning, he detects a faint combination of scents on the air, the smell of Karen, and he smiles.

Another night, Karen sleeps at home. She wakes in tears, from a dream of Matt and Foggy dead, while Doris Urich tells her, “This is your fault. You brought them into your damn crusade, _you did this.”_ She sobs brokenly and knows she won’t be able to sleep again without liquor.

And then, as she starts to get out of bed, she remembers Matt’s offer. She had told herself she would never do it. But now, in the wake of her nightmare, she wants desperately to hear his voice. She leaves the whisky bottle in its place, and picks up her phone instead.

Ever since he made Karen the offer, Matt has been trying to make sure he’s home in case she calls. On the nights he goes out, he gets his work done as early as he can so he’s back by the time he guesses she might be waking up scared.

And it seems his timing is right. He’s been in bed only a short time, sore but pleased with his night’s work, when his phone begins calling out “Karen. Karen. Karen.” He rolls over and fumbles to answer.

“Hey, Karen.”

“Hi.” She’s breathing unevenly and sniffling, she sounds like she’s been crying. “I’m sorry to wake you up—“

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind, I said you could.”

“I mind, though. I’m so sick of this, so tired. I hate needing help, I feel so weak.”

“You’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know. I know it doesn’t feel that way when you’re scared, but you don’t let fear stop you. You push on in spite of it.”

“And look what it’s gotten me. Nightmares, and guilt, and secrets I’m afraid to tell you, I’m afraid of what you’d think of me if you knew.” He hears tears in her voice, and despair. _Guilt? Afraid of what I’d think of her?_ Well, never mind that now. She needs help.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Oh god, no, no. It’s the middle of the night, Matt, it’s not safe. Stay there, please. Just…just talk to me. About anything. Please, just let me hear your voice.”

So he does. Something innocuous, something happy….He begins telling her stories from his childhood, before he went blind. He tells her about his father, his boxing matches, their crappy little apartment. Karen lets the sound of his voice wash over her and soothe her. There’s love in it, and longing, when he talks about his father, and it goes straight to her heart.

And his words give her something new to think about—most lawyers don’t come from this kind of background, struggling to pay the rent, an uneducated father pushing his son to be better than him. But Matt makes it sound so happy. Jack Murdock loved his son, and did his best for him. Karen’s own troubles recede as she she listens to Matt’s voice in her ear, warm and intimate, and finally she asks a question.

“Matt? What happened to your dad? I know he died, Foggy mentioned it once, but he didn’t say how.”

Matt sighs. “I’ll tell you, some other time. It’s sad, and I’m not going to tell you sad things tonight.”

“Okay,” she whispers. Matt can hear her breathing over the phone, calm and regular. She’s gotten over her nightmare, but he’s willing to keep talking to her until she decides she’s ready to go back to sleep.

The next day at the office, Foggy corners him while Karen’s out on the lunch run.

“Dude. What is up between you and Karen?”

“Me and Karen? How do you mean?”

Foggy rolls his eyes. “I may not have super senses, Matt, but I’ve got…regular senses.” He’d been about to say “eyes,” but thought better of it. “You’re watching her like a hawk, or whatever the blind guy equivalent of watching is. Are you monitoring her? Are you, like, listening to her heartbeat and smelling what she had for breakfast and all that weird invasive shit we don’t talk about? Does she know you’re doing it?”

“Foggy…” he sighs. “All right, yes. Yes, I am.” He can almost hear Foggy’s disapproval even when he’s not saying anything. “But listen. There’s a reason, and I can’t…I can’t tell you Karen’s secrets.”

“Karen’s secrets? Karen has secrets?”

“She does. I don’t know what they are, I promised her I wouldn’t ask. But I’ve suspected for weeks that something was wrong. I wasn’t trying to invade her privacy, there are some things I can’t help picking up when she’s right next to me. And you’ve noticed it too, some days.”

“Yeah, I have,” he admits reluctantly. Damn, are all his friends hiding something?

“Well, I’ve been trying to help her. Unobtrusively. Once I promised not to ask questions, she admitted there’s something she’s not telling us. I know she still doesn’t feel entirely safe in her apartment, and…she sometimes has trouble sleeping. Nightmares.”

The light dawns. “That cot you brought in! That’s for Karen.”

“Mainly, yes. I have napped on it a couple of times myself. But I wanted her to have a safe place she can go without us having to know about it. She’s trying so hard to hide the fact that anything’s wrong, and I’m trying to respect that.”

“Which is why you haven’t told me any of this before now.”

“Exactly. I know, I’m hiding things from you again, and I’m sorry. But I’m trying to do what’s best for Karen.”

“Okay, I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“I wish she would tell both of us what’s wrong. But that’s her decision to make. I’m just trying to smooth things over for her, where I can. And…I think she’s getting better. That’s what I’m listening for, when you see me…paying attention. I think, I hope, she’s getting over whatever it is. We both know her mood’s better, and from what I can tell she’s less stressed, less tired.”

Foggy sighs. He’s still not entirely comfortable with the invasiveness of Matt’s abilities. He mostly lives with it by not thinking about it. And yes, he resents being kept in the dark. Again. But he can’t really blame Matt for that. If Karen’s got trouble, than of course helping her is the priority. He pulls himself together, and smiles.

“Apparently it’s my lot in life to care about people who are kinda messed up. I’m glad you’re helping her, and I’m glad she’s getting better. I am also glad that now I know what’s going on.”

Matt cocks his head. “She’s back, she’s coming up the stairs.”

“Okay. I’ll keep my mouth shut, don’t worry. If that’s all I can do to help, I’ll do it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen sleeps at the office, and has an unexpected visitor. Secrets are revealed.

And then one night, everything changes.

Karen’s sleeping at the office, though she rarely feels the need anymore. In the past weeks she’s gotten much better, she’s feeling nearly like her old self again. But now and then, she still wants the comfort of Matt’s office.

She’s sound asleep when someone starts knocking on the window. She startles awake with a cry, and immediately hears a muffled, familiar voice.

“Karen it’s me. Don’t be scared. It’s me. Come and open the window. Please.” Is that _Matt’s_ voice? What on earth is he doing outside an upstairs window? She climbs out of the cot and crosses the room, her heart pounding. There’s not much light, but she can dimly see a man in a mask…with little horns. _Holy shit._

After staring for a long moment, she remembers to open the window. Daredevil climbs over the sill, then grabs her shoulder and leans on her heavily, breath hissing out of him. He’s hurt, he can barely put any weight on one foot.

“Close the window, close the blinds.” It’s definitely Matt’s voice, what the hell is going on? “Close all the blinds in the office, before you turn on any lights.”

She helps him limp painfully over to his chair at the desk, then does as he says. Once they can’t be seen from outside, he pushes back his cowl and shows her his face. Matt’s face, pale and grim and tired. The breath she didn’t realize she was holding escapes her in a whoosh. She drags over another chair and sits, feeling wobbly.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Karen. I had to get off the street, and I was closer to here than to home.”

She finds her voice. “What if I hadn’t been here to let you in?”

He sighs. “I could have broken a window, I suppose. But I knew you were here.”

“You can’t have known. I don’t always sleep here, I don’t even do it very often any more.” She’s abruptly past caring that she hadn’t wanted him to know she _ever_ slept here. “And you can’t have seen me through the window.”

“No. But my other senses…when I went blind, all my other senses got stronger. Much, much stronger. I knew you were here because I could hear you breathing, hear your heart beating, I could smell you.”

“Through the wall?”

“Yes.”

“Matt, that’s crazy.”

“I know. But it’s still true.”

She shakes her head, trying to make sense of it, then suddenly remembers. “Oh! You’re hurt, can I…what should we do?”

He takes out a burner phone from a pocket of his suit. “I know a nurse, I call her when I get hurt more than I can patch up myself. There’s a first aid kit in the cabinet over there, would you…?” While he makes the call, she hunts in the cabinet and brings the kit over to the desk. Then goes to the kitchen and gets him a glass of water, and the ice pack from their tiny freezer.

“…so I don’t know if it’s broken, or just sprained. Can you tell me—“ he pauses, listening, carefully feeling his ankle with one hand. “Hard to tell through the suit, I’d better take it off…No, I’m not at home, but I’m somewhere safe. And I have a friend with me. Here, you can talk to her while I get out of this thing.” He hands the phone to Karen and starts undoing the fastenings of his suit.

“Um. Hi. I’m Karen.”

“Claire. I’m a nurse. Glad to meet you.”

“Yeah, me too. Um. I’m glad to know he has a nurse on speed-dial.”

“You sound a little shell-shocked, did you just find out what he does at night?”

“Yes.”

“Typical.” Claire sounds exasperated. “Never tells anyone anything until he’s forced to. Idiot.”

“But you knew? How do you know him?”

“I met the man in the mask one night when my neighbor found him in our dumpster with the crap beat out of him. He wouldn’t even tell me his name at first. Now I know his name’s Matt and he’s a lawyer, but I still know hardly anything about his normal life.” She pauses. “He does have a normal life of some kind, right?”

Karen laughs, a little nervous and shrill. “Yeah, well. Apparently it’s not as normal as I’d thought.” She glances toward Matt, then stares, distracted. He’s taken off the suit—apparently it’s all one piece, like a jumpsuit, and he’s sitting there in just his boxers. She’s never seen him without a shirt before. He’s _gorgeous._ Her fingers tingle, the room suddenly feels warmer. But he’s also cut by scars—livid, angry-looking lines on his chest, his arms, his stomach. _My god, how did he get those?_ She feels pity and desire welling up, to mix uneasily with the shock and confusion already there.

“…Karen? You still there?”

“Yes! I—sorry, Claire, I just, um, got distracted.”

“Oh, did Matt take his shirt off?”

Karen blushes furiously and clears her throat. Claire chuckles. Matt, meanwhile, has one leg crossed over the other knee, and has been carefully feeling his ankle and leg with both hands, turning and flexing his foot and wincing at the pain. Now he holds out a hand to Karen for the phone, and she hands it back.

“Claire? It’s just a sprain, I’d say…Yes. Yes, I will…Okay. Thank you.” He hangs up and reaches for the glass of water. His hand touches the bottle of painkillers she placed next to it, and he raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“It’s ibuprofen, I always carry some in my purse.” He takes several, drinks down the water, then opens the first aid kit and takes out a roll of elastic bandage. Karen watches him, seeing the sureness of his movements, how he reaches directly for whatever he needs and finds it with no fumbling or feeling around.

“How do you do that?” she asks quietly, as he’s wrapping his ankle. “How do you know where things are?”

“It’s hard to explain. I can feel how the air currents move around the room…changes in pressure, in temperature. I can just… _feel_ where things are. A lot of objects also have a smell or make a sound, that helps.”

“Is that how you can fight?” She’s remembering that night at her apartment, seeing him fight the man who’d come to kill her. How can a blind man fight like that, no matter how good his other senses are?

“Basically, yes. People are easy to locate, they’re full of sounds and smells, I can feel the heat they give off, and I can track movement by changes in the air.” Karen starts to wonder uneasily just what kind of sounds and smells he can detect from her. “It’s not easy to break it down and put it into words. I just _know,_ I can’t always say how exactly. The moves themselves, that’s just training. I was taught how to fight, years ago.” He flexes his foot experimentally, stretches his leg out, and Karen is again recalled to the needs of the moment.

“You need to rest. Looks like you’ll be sleeping on the cot tonight.”

“Karen, I’m sorry, I don’t want to put you out…”

“Shush. I am in much better shape than I used to be, and you’re injured.” She stares at him, thinking back. “Is that how you knew I wasn’t okay, when I was trying so hard to act like everything was fine?”

“Yes. I was picking up on things you couldn’t completely control. I didn’t want to tell you about my senses—“ he shakes his head and smiles a little.”—but I wanted to help, somehow.”

“You did help. You know you did.” She takes his hands for a moment and squeezes them. Then she gets up, drags her chair over to the foot of the cot, and unzips the sleeping bag, opening it up completely. “Come on.” 

He stands, carefully, and she helps him limp over to the cot, acutely aware that she’s wearing only a thin T-shirt and shorts, and he’s wearing even less. He lies down and props his foot up on the chair, and she retrieves the ice pack from the desk and places it carefully on his ankle. She folds the sleeping bag over him, then kneels on the floor beside the cot.

“Are you warm enough? Do you need anything else?”

“I’m fine. I just need sleep.” He reaches out and takes her hand. “Karen, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be lied to, and that’s what I’ve been doing, for as long as you’ve known me.”

She thinks about that, frowning, her own secret weighing heavy on her conscience. “Well, this is kind of a big secret. I can understand you’d want to know someone pretty well before…Oh my god, does Foggy know?”

Matt sighs. “He does now. I didn’t tell him at first. He was…pretty upset when he found out.”

The pieces fall into place. “That’s what you two were fighting about, a couple months ago!” Matt nods. “I _knew_ you weren’t in any car accident. But I never suspected…” She trails off, thinking over the past, seeing it all in a new light. The injuries, the nights he didn’t answer his phone. “This explains so much. Oh my god, you and Foggy told me you’d gotten information from the man in the mask! You dick!” Matt looks sheepish. She frowns and shakes her head. “It’s going to take some time, I think, to take it all in. It’s a lot to think about.”

“Of course. There’s more I should probably tell you about my abilities. But not tonight, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah, of course. You need to rest.” She yawns, suddenly tired. “And so do I. We can talk more later.”

“You can ask me any questions you think of. And, if you want to yell at me, you can do that too. Foggy did.”

“I might. We’ll see. If you’re all right here on your own—“ he nods.”—then I’ll go home and go to bed. I’ll swing by your place in the morning and pick up some clothes for you. Can I have your keys?”

“I can’t ask you to—“

“Matt. You need clothes. You can’t wear your Daredevil suit in the office. And yes, you can ask, and anyway you didn’t ask, I offered. Keys?”

He gives in. “I don’t have my keys with me. I come and go by the roof access at night.”

“Of course you do,” she mutters.

“The upper door to my apartment isn’t locked. Take the stairs in the hallway up to the roof. There’s a duffel bag in the bedroom cupboard, and my keys are on the bedside table.” He sighs. “Thank you, Karen. Thank you for taking this so well…so far, at least.” He smiles, a little sadly. “And thank you for taking care of me. I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” She smooths his hair back from his face and squeezes his hand. “I’ll just get changed and go.”

“Be careful going home.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

—————————————————————————

When Karen returns in the morning, she brings bagels and coffee, which she leaves on her desk, as well as Matt’s bag packed with clothing and toiletries. He’s fast asleep, curled on his side and looking more peaceful than he ever does awake. She looks at him for a long moment, thinking _This is Daredevil. This man is the man in the mask._ She knows it’s true, but it still seems incredible. Everything she knows about Daredevil—the night he saved her life, the footage of him on the TV news— _Matt. All of it, Matt._

She shakes her head, then sets down the duffel bag and kneels beside the cot. She hates to wake him, but she wants to be sure he has time to make himself presentable before they open for business.

“Matt?” She puts a hand on his shoulder, then runs it down his arm to where his hand is sticking out of the sleeping bag. “Matt, wake up. It’s morning.”

“Karen?” He smiles sleepily and closes his hand around hers, and her breath catches. He yawns and stretches out, letting go her hand and turning onto his back, but an injudicious movement of his foot sends pain shooting through his injured ankle and he gasps, suddenly fully awake.

Karen winces in sympathy. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I…” He remembers now, where he is, everything that happened during the night. “Oh. Oh, god. Karen—“ He reaches a hand toward her, but then stops. Is she angry? Will she walk out like Foggy did?

She sees the anxiety in his face and remembers that Foggy stopped speaking to Matt entirely when he first found out his secrets. She immediately takes his hand. “I’m here, Matt. I’m not going anywhere.” He grips her hand, but the anxiety remains. Again her conscience pricks her. Is he really that worried what _she_ thinks of him?

She turns to practical matters. “C’mon, sit up. I brought clothes, and some other things so you can clean up a bit in the bathroom. It’s early, you should have time before business hours.”

He throws back the sleeping bag and sits up, and dear lord, he looks just as good in the muted daylight coming through the blinds as he did last night. Maybe better. She feels her heart rate increase, then remembers he can probably hear it, and blushes. Can he tell? Well, he said she could ask questions.

“Can you tell if someone’s blushing?”

“At this distance, yes. I can feel the heat coming off your skin. But I try not to let on, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Well, that’s a mercy,” she mutters, setting the duffel bag on the cot and unzipping it. He feels around inside and fishes out the toiletries bag. She holds him steady while he stands and helps him limp to the bathroom, leaning heavily on her. If her hands linger a little longer than strictly necessary, he doesn’t remark on it.

While he washes, shaves, brushes his teeth, Matt thinks things over, trying to figure out if his friendship with Karen is going to survive last night’s revelations. She doesn’t seem angry, she’s being very kind, but she might just be being gentle with him because he’s hurt. Under the circumstances, he’s determined not to read too much into the signs of attraction she’s giving off. He sighs. The whole thing’s a mess, but if he’s very lucky it might not be a disaster. At least his ankle is slightly better this morning, he can stand on his own at the sink as long as he doesn’t put too much weight on it. But he still needs help walking—it’s _not_ just an excuse to put his arm around her, to feel her arms and hands on his bare skin. _Get it together, Murdock._

As soon as he opens the bathroom door she’s there, ready to help him back to his office so he can dress.

When Foggy arrives a few minutes later, Matt’s office door is closed, the blinds drawn over the windows. Karen’s at her desk, she looks up with a bright “Hi, Foggy,” then glances at Matt’s office.

“Hi, Karen.” He also glances at Matt's office, then back at Karen, eyebrows raised. She gives him a look he can’t decipher, takes him by the arm and walks him into his own office, closing the door. “What’s going on? Are we hiding something unspeakable in Matt’s office?”

“Matt is in Matt’s office, getting dressed.” She pauses, looking a little flustered. “I, um. I was here late last night, and Matt showed up. Outside the window.”

Foggy’s eyes are round. “Oh. Oh my god, you mean…?” 

She’s nodding vigorously. “Yes, he sprained his ankle, and this was the nearest safe place he could get to.” She speaks quickly, agitated. “So he called to me, and I opened the window and let him in…” she tells him everything that happened, finishing “…so I picked up some clothes for him this morning, and he’s in there now, getting dressed. And I brought bagels and coffee, for all of us, because I haven’t had breakfast, and god knows when he last ate, and I know you love bagels, so.” She stops abruptly, having apparently run out of words.

Foggy squeezes her shoulder. “Karen, I am so glad you finally know. I would just like to state, for the record, that I _hate_ lying to you, and I am sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not very good at it.” She shakes her head at him. “Car accident, my ass.”

“I’m sorry! It’s the best I could do at short notice! I couldn’t tell you—“

“No, of course not. You don’t have to apologize, Foggy, it’s not your secret to tell. Of course you couldn’t tell me the truth. He, on the other hand,” she shoots a look toward Matt’s office, “has got some explaining to do. We only covered the basic facts last night, we haven’t really _talked_ about it.”

“You mad?”

“I don’t know. Yes. But not like you were. I haven’t been friends with him since college, I don’t have any reason to expect that he would tell me all his secrets. But yeah, it hurts, I won’t lie.”

“He’d know you were lying, anyway.”

“He would?”

“Oh shit. Whoops. Uh, yes, he can tell when people are lying. I’m going to shut up now and he can tell you the rest himself.”

“He said that I’m welcome to yell at him, if I want to. And he said I can ask him questions. Have you asked him a lot?”

“Well. We just had the one big talk about it, really. And a lot of that was me yelling at him. We haven’t really talked about it much since.”

“I’m sure you could ask questions, too.”

“You know he can probably hear this entire conversation, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But I would still prefer to maintain the illusion of privacy. Come on, let’s go eat.” They return to Karen’s desk and she opens up the bag from the bakery, while he goes to tap on Matt’s door.

“Morning, Matt. Karen has brought us bagels and coffee, because she is a kind and generous soul. Which you probably smelled as soon as she came in the door. The bagels and coffee, that is, not her soul. You can’t smell souls, can you?”

The door opens. “Actually, I was asleep when she came in.” He reaches out, and Foggy takes his arm and supports him over to Karen’s desk. “But I don’t need enhanced senses to know that she’s a kind and generous soul.”

Karen smiles, but her conscience needles her. _Kind and generous. If they only knew._

Foggy brings his and Matt’s chairs over to Karen’s desk, and they all sit together for breakfast. There’s some discomfort between Matt and Karen, but that’s only to be expected. On the whole, the bombshell seems to have dropped this time with relatively little damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the suit one piece or two? Don't know, but I imagine one, so there's no possibility of a gap exposing his midsection. Would it really be necessary to take the whole thing off just to examine his ankle? Probably not! I'm not sorry. I thought it would be fun for Karen and Claire to share their appreciation of Matt's ridiculous abs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen reveals her own secret.

Over the next few days, Matt, as promised, tells Karen more details about his abilities and their implications. He can tell that she’s hurt, and angry, that he didn’t tell her sooner, but she’s more interested in understanding the truth than she is in punishing him. He’s particularly careful over the privacy implications; he wants to be sure she knows the worst of him.

She asks questions as she thinks of them, and so does Foggy, throwing random non sequiturs into their office conversation when there’s no one else there to overhear.

“How close to someone do you have to be to hear their heart beat?”

“At L & Z, did you know when Chad and Amy were screwing in the supply closet?”

“So how, exactly, did your apartment get trashed?”

“Is an enhanced sense of smell as bad as it sounds?”

It’s not easy, and not comfortable, laying bare the things he’s kept hidden for most of his life. But for these two, for the people he loves, he makes the effort.

Karen, meanwhile, has been thinking about her own secrets. For so long she’s been certain that she could never tell anyone, that Matt and Foggy would be horrified, would despise her if they knew. But now…Matt isn’t entirely the man she’d thought. Knowing he’s deeply familiar with violence is making her question her resolve. Daredevil might understand her actions. Might not condemn her. And the more he opens up to her, the worse she feels for continuing to hide.

But Foggy? He would definitely be horrified. Would he condemn her? Could he accept it, like he’s accepted Matt? She knows she can’t ask Matt to keep it from him, she won’t be responsible for any more secrets between them. If she tells one, she’s got to tell both.

The next time that she can be sure, from casual conversation, that neither of them has any plans after work, she steels herself. As they’re packing up at the end of the day, she clears her throat and dives in.

“Um, guys? Can you stick around for a bit? There’s something I want to tell you. Both.”

“Sure, Karen, what’s up?”

“Let’s go and sit down.” She heads for the conference room, her heart pounding. Matt tucks his glasses in his shirt pocket, Foggy hangs his coat back up, and they follow. They can both sense her anxiety, and by unspoken agreement they sit on either side of her.

Matt leans toward her. “Karen, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know. But I’m tired of keeping it from you. I’m tired of being afraid that you might find out somehow.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m tired of feeling…of _knowing_ that I don’t deserve that you both think so well of me.” She keeps her voice steady by sheer willpower, and forces herself to continue.

“I…shot a man. Dead. I killed him.” She doesn’t dare look at either of them. Foggy looks at Matt, but he looks just as shocked as Foggy feels. Whatever he’s been able to guess about Karen’s mysterious troubles, he wasn’t expecting this.

“Who? When?” Matt’s keeps his voice quiet. Calm. She closes her eyes and answers.

“It was Wilson Fisk’s man, the one who hired you two to defend that guy from the bowling alley. And, it was right after your so-called car accident, when you two weren’t talking to each other.” She tells them everything, about the drugging, the kidnapping, the threats, the “job offer.” When her eyes tear up and her voice starts to wobble, Matt pulls his chair closer and puts an arm around her, putting his other hand on hers. On her other side, Foggy does the same. She grips their hands and keeps talking, about the gun left negligently on the table, the impossible choice given her, the moment of distraction that gave her another option.

When she’s finished, no one says anything for a moment. Foggy feels stunned that Karen’s actually killed a man, but also angry at himself that he never noticed what she’s been going through. Matt feels appalled, and guilty. Even though he knows he was in no condition to be protecting anyone on the night it happened, he still feels that somehow, he should have been there for her. Somehow, he should have prevented this.

Karen sniffles, and Foggy hands her a tissue. Both men keep holding her as she gulps and blows her nose.

Finally Matt speaks. “So this is what you’ve been having nightmares about.”

She nods. “Sometimes I just see him again, as I’m shooting him…he looked surprised. Not evil, not dangerous. Just surprised. I think it would be easier to bear, if he looked like a monster, and not just…just a man.” She gulps again. “Or sometimes it’s Fisk coming after me, or…sometimes I see the two of you being killed. And I can’t do anything to stop it. And I know it’s all my fault.”

“Karen, that’s not—“

“That’s part of the nightmare, knowing it’s my fault. Telling me it isn’t my fault doesn’t matter.”

Foggy squeezes her hand. “Karen, this is just…that never should have happened to you, you never should have been in a terrible situation like that.”

“But it did happen. I killed someone. And it wasn’t self-defense, my life wasn’t in any immediate danger.”

“But the circumstances still matter,” says Matt. “He was threatening your life, and ours. I’ve heard the same thing from other people who worked for Fisk, he threatened their loved ones to keep them in line. If you’d refused, they would definitely have come after us, and anyone else you’re close to.”

“The man who tried to kill me, when I was in jail,” Karen whispers, remembering. “He said he was sorry. He apologized while he was strangling me.” She shudders. “Fisk must have made him do it, he must have threatened someone he loved.”

“And even if you’d agreed,” Matt continues, “they still might have come after us, if you didn’t succeed.”

“Which I wouldn’t have. I would have needed to convince Ben, convince you—my god, convince _Daredevil_ —to stop going after Fisk. Convince you all that he was doing the right thing. There’s no way. I never could have pulled that off.”

“And if you did succeed…then you’d have proven your usefulness to them. I doubt that would have been the end of it.”

“He’s right,” says Foggy. “They could have just kept threatening us, any time they wanted anything from you. You would’ve had to keep on doing whatever he told you to, or they’d come after all of us.” He feels sick. “I don’t know what else you could have done.”

Her eyes tear up again. “I tried to tell myself I had no choice, but that’s not true. There’s always a choice. There just isn’t always a _good_ choice.”

Matt suddenly remembers the choice that their client, Healy, made, after the man in the mask had beaten Fisk’s name out of him. Karen could have taken that way out, could have shot herself instead of her captor. His heart plummets at the thought of Karen dead, and he squeezes her shoulders, stroking his thumb over the fingers of the hand he’s holding.

“Karen, if I were forced into a position like that, I can’t say I’d do any differently. I can’t judge you. You did the best you could.”

Foggy agrees. “If it were me…I’d hate to kill anyone. But if it were the only way to protect the people I care about—“

“But I didn’t hate it.” She stares at her hands holding theirs. “I was scared at first. But when I picked up the gun, I felt…powerful. Strong.” Her voice turns hard and angry. “He tried to make me weak. He snatched me off my own doorstep, he drugged me and intimidated me and threatened the people I love, to try and make me betray everything I believe in. He wanted me scared and helpless and _broken._ And I put seven bullets in him. It was so…satisfying. After I’d done it I was horrified. But while I was doing it, I enjoyed it.”

After a long moment of silence, Matt sighs and says quietly, “I know the feeling.” She looks up at him, startled. He looks grim, but also understanding. Sympathetic.

“You’re not a bad person. If you were, you wouldn’t have felt horrified after. You wouldn’t have nightmares. The fact that this has torn you up so badly show that you are a good person, who only killed because you were driven to extremes. The bad people are the ones who can kill casually, without remorse. It doesn’t make you bad that, for a few seconds, you felt satisfaction in taking down your enemy. Under the circumstances, you’d have to be a saint not to.”

On her other side, Foggy sighs, and suddenly she feels a wave of pity. She turns to him with a sad smile. “Foggy, I’m sorry. Whatever you thought of me half an hour ago, I wish that were true. I’d like to be that person.” She lets go Matt’s hand and reaches out to hug him. Foggy hugs her back.

“I’m glad you told us. That can’t have been easy, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to tell anyone. And it’s painful, yeah. But I’d rather know than be kept in the dark. And you shouldn’t have to bear up under something like that all by yourself.”

Suddenly Matt realizes something. “Oh my god, Karen. That night here at the office, after Foggy left. I knew something was wrong, but I was so wrapped up in my own problems…I asked you, Did something happen, and you said, The world fell apart. You meant this, this is what happened. And I just stood there and did nothing—“

“Matt, stop.” She turns back to him. “You couldn’t have known. I didn’t want you to know. You can’t read minds.” She pauses. “You can’t, can you?”

“No, thank god.” He smiles a little, but it’s strained.

“Well then. Neither of you should feel guilty that I was trying to cope with it alone. That was my choice.” She has an arm around each of them now. “I was afraid at first it might be traced back to me somehow, and in that case the less you knew the better for you. But I was also just…afraid that I’d lose you if you knew what I’d done, and I couldn’t bear that.”

“We’re harder to lose than that.” Foggy tries to smile, and mostly succeeds. She feels like she might start crying again, but manages to smile back.

“Okay, this chair hugging is too awkward. Stand up, boys.” They all stand, and Karen pulls them both into one big hug, holding on tight, finally daring to believe that maybe, maybe everything is going to be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Team Avocado know Wesley's name? I know back in chapter one I had Karen thinking of him as Wesley, but it occurred to me later that they don't know, as far as I can remember. He didn't tell them his name, either when he hired them or when he kidnapped Karen, and I don't remember them finding it out any other way.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings, nothing more than feelings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more quick little bit to wrap things up.

Life settles down into a pleasant routine, secrets told, deceptions forgiven. But something still remains unspoken between Karen and Matt.

Foggy brings it up one evening, after Karen’s gone home. “So, are you ever going to ask her out?”

“What—Foggy, why would you think that’s a good idea?”

“Dude. Can you not tell, with all your super senses, that she is into you?”

“An elevated heart rate can mean lots of things. Not a mind reader, remember?”

“Well, I can see how she looks at you. I’m telling you, man. Her eyes might as well have cartoon hearts in them. She blushes. It’s adorable. And don’t even try telling me you don’t want to.” Matt ducks his head, but Foggy sees the small smile he’s trying to hide. “Uh huh. Wait, what about her voice? She sounds different when she talks to you, even I can hear it, you must be able to.”

Matt gives in. “All right, Foggy, yes. I can tell. And of course I’m interested. I just…you know my track record. I am not good at this. Not over the long term. And it’s _Karen._ I don’t want to screw things up.”

“Okay, I get that. But never saying anything is also a way of screwing it up. So don’t.”

Karen is also worried about screwing it up. If she could be sure he felt the same way she does…but he’s never been one to show his feelings too openly. Everything he says and does _could_ be interpreted, possibly, as being only friendly. Maybe. She’s determined not to be blinded by hope. Just think how awkward a mistake would be, they work together after all, they can’t possibly avoid each other if things were to go badly.

But the suspense is getting hard to take, and she’s seen Foggy raising his eyebrows at the two of them in apparent exasperation, and finally one day when she and Matt are alone she decides to act.

She goes and stands in his doorway, feeling nervous. “Matt. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, come on in.”

She walks over and sits on the edge of his desk, right next to him. He can hear her heart hammering, can feel her blush, and his own heart starts to beat faster.

“What’s on your mind?”

“You are,” she blurts out, and blushes harder. “I, wow. That wasn’t how I…okay. Um. I want to kiss you, Matt. Is that—do you—“

His whole face lights up. “You do? Oh. YES. Yes.” He stands, a huge smile on his face, and she stands too as he puts his hands on her shoulders.

She steps closer and slides her arms around him, but she can’t help asking, “Are you sure? In spite of everything?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Are…are you sure? In spite of everything?”

“Yes.” She’s smiling too, she lifts one of his hands to her face so he can feel it. “I mean, yeah, your life is kind of weird. Not bad! But…complicated. But we can figure it out, we can make it work. If you want to.” She runs one hand into his hair, her thumb stroking his cheekbone, and he leans into the touch with a sigh, his skin tingling. He realizes she’s teasing a little, deliberately drawing the moment out.

“Oh, I want to.” He cups her jawline in his own hand, trailing his thumb over her lips, and her breath catches. He strokes his thumb back and forth, until her lips part, and a small breathy sound escapes her. And finally, finally, she leans in and presses her lips to his.

They pull each other closer, shifting their feet, settling their arms around each other, making small unconscious adjustments to fit their bodies together as closely as possible. Pressed against Matt’s chest, his lips moving soft and warm over hers, Karen can feel his heart beat, as clearly as he can hear hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! I wanted to get this finished and posted, before season two arrives and contradicts all of it. So there it is. Karen does not wait around to be asked! I really see her as the more assertive of these two, at least about this sort of thing.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
